


Old Western Movies

by PickledTeeth



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: After all the tuberculosis cure has been found out, Because im lazy, Clint Eastwood movies, Early 1980s, Kissing, M/M, Old western movies, Pale Rider, Popcorn, Romance, Split Into Two Parts, drive-in theatres, in this au Arthur does not die and nobody dies, nobody loses their heads or gets shot in a bank robbery, none of that here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-09-27 08:51:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickledTeeth/pseuds/PickledTeeth
Summary: "Clint Eastwood?" Arthur asks as he runs a finger down the cracking spine of the movie case. It’s been opened too many times to keep count."Yeah...Outlaw Josey Wales is my favourite.""You...uh wanna watch the new one?”--------------A 1980s Horse Racing AU nobody asked for where Arthur and Kieran bond over a Clint Eastwood movie.





	1. The Outlaw Josey Wales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this overtired and high on medication, so here it is...split into two parts my friends ;)

The knock at his door was very unexpected. Quiet, unsure, like whoever was at his door wasn’t sure of themselves. Kieran, as a whole, had nobody he was very close too in his life. No friends who’d want to visit and sip lemonade with him at his front porch. 

So this...was very surprising, if not a little unnerving. 

The doorknob ground against years-old rust when he turned it, the door letting loose a loud squeal as it swung open inwards. 

On his porch, _his _porch, was Arthur Morgan. 

Dressed in old grass-stained jeans, and a button up plaid shirt, baseball cap on his chin-length hair, he looked as though he were a child, an embarrassed one, like he were about to ask for candy from a parent. Fingers playing with each other, thumbs twiddling, cheeks dusted a light pink that one could _assume_ was from a sunburn. He did, after all, help manage and run the ranch they were on. 

"Hey." Arthur is always the first to speak in every interaction. Unlike Arthur, the Van Der Lindes spoke down to him. There was never any shred of respect towards Kieran when he spoke to the Van Der Lindes. Though, he remembered training famous horses. _Their_ horses. Champions, winners, spotlight stealers, the ones that always had the press following their every move during a race. 

Risk Taker.

Old Afternoon.

Ace of Spades. 

Three Thoroughbred horses that brought fame and fortune onto the pristine ranch. Three horses that brought tours, visitors, reporters from both budding television news and newspapers, business men willing to strike deals with the crooked Dutch Van Der Linde. Three horses that Kieran trained, made into champions. 

Kieran was recognized across all news stations, television and paper, as the jockey to beat. The one who had a way with horses. The trainer for Dutch Van Der Linde. 

The only ones who seemed to recognize his loyalty, his talent, was Dutch himself, Mary-Beth, and, in recent times, Arthur. 

Everyone else avoided him like the plague, but, he couldn’t yell at them to change their minds. He knew why they were suspicious; he hadn’t exactly waltzed over to their Ranch in a very pleasant way. He'd been arrested, not by the police _oh no_. 

By Arthur himself. 

Kieran was caught sticking his nose in the wrong place at the wrong time per Colms order to do so. Rather than call the police like anyone would, the Van Der Linde's took the matter into their own grubby, crime-ridden hands. 

Kieran knew why. 

If they'd reported his suspicious activity to the police, they _themselves_ would be investigated and they would be found out of previous scams, dealings, frauds, and...unpleasant meetings that usually ended up with a gun being shot. Van Der Linde, if he ever got caught, usually slid a stack the policemen's way and all was forgiven. 

Dutch Van Der Linde questioned Kieran about what Colm was planning; scams, races, _murders_, etc. Anything concerning the ranch or any of the races they would be entering in the near future.

Kieran did not say much. He was, after all, the stable hand, a lowly servant, who usually slept in a little room beside the horses in the barn. He was the horse-hand, the lackey who everyone berated. He never really was allowed to waltz into the main house to talk business, never really gossiped to about future crimes-in-the-making. Kieran knew the man only had the ranch put up as another easy way to make money, and he knew Colm ran tons of little shady side businesses to make said money. What those side businesses were, Kieran only knew of a few. 

After grueling hours, and even more grueling days, he eventually cracked on one thing; a connection to one of the local gangs, who usually frequented the racetracks, and the infamous Colm. Said there was money to be had at one of their hideouts, lots and lots of it, potentially enough to set the whole ranch up and comfy for a long _long _time. Said that Colm might even be there, as the man drank at those areas with his _employees_.

A bar called _Six Point Cabin_.

After Kieran broke about one tiny thing, the puzzle pieces fell into their natural place, the bar being raided by Arthur, John, Bill and _himself _only a few hours after his telling. They got a few hundred dollars, Arthur got a new gun, and Kieran got to keep on living his life, which, in essence, was a pretty good deal for him.

After a few heated words and a good point being made, Kieran was welcomed into the crooked ranch. He wouldn't necessarily say it was with open arms, but he was definitely treated better than when he was with his old employer. Got an old home, one that belonged to a _Josiah Trelawny_ before he disappeared. 

"Howdy." Kieran dares to answer back to the intimidating man, dares to even _breathe_. His voice is small, awkward, laced with nerves. A large part wonders _what's he doing here? _

Another part greets the man as though he were an old friend passing through who spontaneously decided to visit unannounced. 

_C__ome in_, _come sit_, _visit!_

"I was...wonderin if you were busy this afternoon?" His voice cracks a little as he says _afternoon_, an odd tick Kieran had never seen in the other man before. Arthur seemed nervous, a little anxious, though he was not looking for a way out of the situation. 

Kieran clears his throat, leans against the doorway. Doesn’t block Arthur’s way into his home. 

"Nothing really." Kieran answers truthfully in a quiet voice. He really didn’t have anything to do before Arthur came rolling up to his porch. 

Arthur's eyebrows shoot up, a look of hopefulness spreading across his face like melted butter, and he wets his lip. Shoves his hands in his pockets, takes them out, scratches his chin. It looks like he has no clue what to do with his hands. 

“You want to do somethin?" He shoots a rather quick glance to his truck, an old red rusting Chevy pickup, which still idles away with slight hiccups in the engine. It's a real wonder how the thing hasn't broken down. 

Kieran stalls for a moment. Swallows rather loudly, gulps more like, shock fogging his brain. He doesn't answer right away.

"Yer the only one who ain't busy." Arthur rushes to explain, and that _sunburn_ somehow travels just a tad downwards. That snaps Kieran out of it. 

"Uh...s-sure?" He stumbles over his words like a lovestruck fool, tongue refusing to work alongside his brain. In essence, he was a little bit of a lovestruck fool. There'd been some..._feelings_ to arise in his short time working as a _forced_ Van Der Linde employee. Unwanted feelings, but at the same time they were _wanted_ feelings, _confusing_ feelings. 

Whenever he was around the man, his world literally lit up. However short and curt Arthur's words were to him, there was an underlying tone of empathy, an underlying tone of softness towards Kieran.

Arthur usually went out of his way to speak to Kieran whenever the opportunity arose; offering a cup of coffee whenever Kieran walked past the kitchen in the main farmhouse. Sometimes inviting him to sit down at the table and eat with everyone else, no matter the glares and offended stares. It spread warmth throughout his heart, his chest all the way through his fingers and his toes. Made him feel..._alive_. _Human_. 

_You gonna sit down, Kieran? _

_Wanna cup of coffee? _

_Pull up a chair. _

Kieran never could say no, even if he was busy at the moment. He always made time, shoved a few things aside in his schedule just see Arthur's smile, hear his voice. 

"W-what do you have in mind?"

Which wouldn't explain why he felt so nervous at that moment. Granted, Arthur had never gone out of his way physically to visit. It was always a matter of coincidence; whenever Kieran walked by, Arthur asked to join in whatever activity he was indulging in. 

Arthur nods at the space above Kieran's shoulder. It takes a minute for everything to click in Kieran’s brain. 

_Oh, he wants to come in... _

Kieran moves to the side and lets Arthur walk into his house.

The other man toes off his boots, places them all neat-like on the barren shoe rack by the entranceway. He closes the door softly behind him as he does so. 

Kieran stands by the tiny kitchenette he was gifted as Arthur wanders around the small living room, peering around at the photos lining the wall. 

The pictures are paintings bought from thrift stores, flea markets, garage sales, or actual stores. Horse paintings, mostly, and a few of flowers. Kieran feels a little uncomfortable of how closely Arthur's looking at everything. 

"You do this?" Arthur nods to a painting of a white horse rearing up, teeth flashing and hooves stabbing the clear blue sky. 

"No...I'm not really an artist." 

That's that conversation. Arthur has his hands in his pockets again as he moves slowly around the carpeted living room. The floorboards creaks under the man’s weight, really the only thing that fills the awkward silence. It makes Kieran's anxiety flare up. 

Arthur stops at a end-table near the three-seat couch, leans down and picks up a picture frame with a tenderness that Kieran's never seen before. The picture is old, though in dull colour, the glass of the frame spotty with years of touching and viewing. 

It's of him with his parents, a younger version of himself at maybe ten years old. His mother had put on her most fancy dress for that day, a blue one with a large bow on the back. It made her fiery red hair pop. His father, a tall man with green eyes, wore his black suit with shiny tie. Kieran sat in the middle, hair touching his chin, in the fanciest outfit they could find. It was taken a few years before they passed away. 

After they died, it was orphanage after orphanage, foster home after foster home until he was a legal adult. 

_And look how that turned out_, Kieran thinks bitterly, frowns a little, crosses his arms. 

"That you?" Arthur touches the ten-year old Kieran with the pad of his thumb, a smile hinting on his voice. Kieran blushes like a madman.

"Y-yeah. That's me."

This time Arthur does smile, puts the frame down, straightens up. He does not speak. 

Arthur takes a few steps and he's at a shelf that's screwed to the wall. It's lined with movies and books, and the man runs a finger down one of the movie cases, cracked and worn out from being opened so many times. 

"Clint Eastwood?" Arthur declares with a questioning tone, though there is no mocking voice underneath. Kieran smiles, ducks his head, rubs this thumb over a dull spot of grease on his counter. 

"Yeah...The Outlaw Josey Wales is my favourite."

Arthur hums, raises an eyebrow, and steps away from the movie cases. He regards Kieran for a moment. 

"You...uh, wanna watch the new one?”

Pale Rider?

Kieran was meaning to go watch it, either at the drive-in or the actual movie theatres, or just buy the movie when it came out. 

"You wanna watch Pale Rider? With _me_?" Kieran doesn't mean to sound so dubious, doesn't mean to sound so _suspicious. _

"I ain't allowed to ask a friend to the movies?" Arthur titters, though the way he says '_friend'_ sounds choked and forced. Kieran's brain stalls out at being mentioned as a friend, though he quickly shakes his head and gives a tense smile.

"Didn't think I was a friend. Least a friend to watch an almost two hour movie with."

Arthur is already making his way to the door, grabbing his boots from the rack and slipping them on one at a time. Kieran stays in his place by the counter, nearly frozen. 

"It'll be fun." Arthur drawls. He gestures for Kieran to come over by the door as he opens it up, the old rickety thing making a helluva screeching noise when it swings. 

Kieran sighs, hangs his head, and finally moves to grab his own boots. 

"Fine. I'll come."


	2. Drive-In to My Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so fun to write, like my perfect date would be a drive-in under the stars with tons of food to snack on.  
And yes, this has all the romantic tropes my friends cause I'm a sucker for cheesy romance.

Kieran could conclude that Arthur Morgan was indeed an...interesting character. 

After the old truck's put into drive, and after they leave the main driveway with gravel popping under the tires, Kieran shifts uncomfortably in the passenger seat. At his feet are tools, rusting and old, a few plastic bottles of water, some empty and some not, and a few rags soaked with grease and oil. It threatens to stain his already stained boots with axle grease, but that was the least of his problems at the moment. 

The biggest of his problems was sitting beside him in a truck. 

Kieran tugs at the seatbelt hugging his chest, repositioning it so it didn't rub against his neck, a way to mostly distract himself. Arthur has his eyes on the road, one hand relaxing on the wheel, while the other shifted the truck into gear whenever the engine dared to hiccup. The old truck putts along the freshly-paved highway, sharing the highway with the odd semi or tractor. 

"So..." Kieran doesn't even register that's his own voice barely heard over the roar of the truck's engine, doesn't even know what compelled him to speak in such a tense moment. Looking for conversation, as if sitting quietly in a truck with someone who would've killed you a few months back wasn't enough. 

Arthur looks at him without turning his head, sort of surprised that Kieran was speaking, and he relaxes in the seat with a whistley sigh. 

"So?" Arthur parrots in a questioning tone, but he does not mock. Instead, he seems humoured. And that sends a raging blush across Kieran's cheeks, one he tries to hide by dipping his head down to cover his cheeks with his hair. 

"W-Why you bringin' me to the drive-in?" Kieran has had the question on the tip of his tongue the entire time they'd been in the same vehicle. That length of time would be approximately ten minutes now. 

Ten minutes of watching crops whizz by, ten minutes of listening to the old engine rumble along the road. Ten minutes of watching the sky turn from blue to pinks and purples and oranges. Ten minutes of listening to the old radio crackle with top hits from the 70s. 

_Doctor doctor, gimme the news, _

_I got a bad case of lovin' you, _

The song blares rather loudly on the radio, staticky, though distinguishable through the slight white noise. Kieran wants to laugh at how _ironic_ the song is in a time like this, how the radio company seemed to know they were already in an awkward silence and decided to make it _even more awkward _by playing a fucking love song.

Arthur shifts, turns the radio slightly down so only a muffled _You think I'm cute, a little bit shy _came from the radio speakers. A light blush dusts his freckled cheekbones, and he clears his throat. Kieran starts to think the man is nervous about answering his question. 

"You were the only one who wasn't busy."

Was he? Kieran recalled seeing Javier and Hosea smoking on the porch of the farmhouse when he tailed Arthur out of his trailer home. They didn't seem busy, quite the opposite. 

Kieran heard the slightest of wobbles in the other man’s voice when he spoke. Arthur's voice only warbled when he was hiding something; a trait Kieran learned from listening (_eavesdropping_) to him talk about a woman named Mary Linton. 

_"Who's this lucky gal, Arthur? A Miss Mary Linton callin our phone?" Mary-Beth teased with a curve of a smile gracing her face. She had been holding a romance novel in her hands, though that was closed and forgotten, laying forlornly on her lap, Mary-Beth opting to instead pester Arthur with a razzing tone. _

_"Ah, she's just a friend." Arthur's voice wobbled just a little bit, almost non-existent, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, "Just a friend." _

Kieran swallows. 

Was Arthur...was he _lying_? Arthur Morgan, lying about something that shouldn't have to be lied about. 

Arthur licks his lips, eyes flickering from speedometer to the road. Fingers squeeze the steering wheel, hand moves from the gear stick to his wallet. There's a light sheen of sweat on the gear stick when he moves it. 

“I’ll pay.” Arthur offers, holding up the black leather case. Arthur never offered to pay for anything before this instance, and that’s when Kieran really starts to think this was Arthur’s plan all along. Take him somewhere, no matter if he was the only one not busy, take him out of his house, spend time together, not matter how meager it was.

Pale Rider only came into mind because Kieran mentioned liking Clint Eastwood’s movies. 

“No, it’s alright.” Kieran says, and digs into his pockets, sifts through receipts and spare change, grabs the leather wallet which rests all the way at the bottom. It’s hard against his skin as he pops it open to expose a few dollars, dull green, crinkled. Only three one-dollar bills, side-by-side lay in the otherwise barren wallet. So empty that he's very surprised no fly comes buzzing out halfheartedly. Christ when was the last time he'd left the ranch?

“I can pay for myself.” Kieran speaks past his stupor, touches one of the bills lightly with a fingernail. Almost afraid it might disintegrate if he touched it with any pressure. 

Arthur looks off the road, stoops down to count the money, eyes flicking from bill to bill. His face is a mix of pity and curiosity, eyebrows pinching together with each passing second. Kieran nearly has a heart-attack when they start drifting around in the lane. 

“That ain’t even enough to get a full tank of gas.” Arthur straightens with a chuckle, a shake of his head that has stray strands of hair fall from underneath his cap. He leans back in his seat and flicks his eyes back on the road, which has Kieran letting out a breathe of relief, "I'll pay. Consider it a thank you for savin my life."

Ah. _That. _

When they raided that warehouse, there was a man. A man who busted out of one of the offices. He almost shot Arthur in the face with a polished shotgun, even had time to pump the fore-stock to load the damn thing. Kieran had only been there on a whim, a gut feeling that forced him to follow Arthur and the gang through the warehouse. Taken a backdoor he knew about to see if they needed help, try to prove himself that he wasn't an O'Driscoll. Good thing he did, as Kieran only got there in time to see Arthur flat on his back, staring down the barrel of a twin shotgun. Kieran shot the man with a pistol stolen off a nearby dead, nearly beheaded body, asked in a shaky voice "_You alright?" _

"Since you been goin on and on about that." Arthur titters, shakes his head again, looks Kieran in the eye with a seriousness that was not portrayed seconds ago, "Really, though...thanks."

Kieran smiles through his shock, through the moment of _h__oly shit he's actually thanking me, _tries to keep it from wobbling down into a love-sick puppy grin. 

"You're welcome." He manages to speak without giggling like a schoolgirl, without blushing like a mad fool, "It would've looked bad if you'd died in the raid, and I’d survived."

It would've. It would've looked like Kieran had set them up. Somehow communicated with his former boss about the raid even though he was in literal solitude for god knows how long. 

But it didn't happen. And now, low and behold, he was now going to the movies with someone he considered his 'arch-nemesis' just months prior.

Arthur chuckles again, light and airy, _beautiful. _Kieran's never seen him smile so much that his eyes crinkle and his face glows, and that's when he knows he truly, oh so truly smitten.

Knows he's truly in love.

\--- --- --- --- --- ---

The sky was an inky dark when they got there, a moonless night with only a few stars peeking out. The large billboard out front, peeling and wooden base turning a moldy green, read in large letters **PALE RIDER **with none other than Clint Eastwood plastered on the front. It looks cheesy, comical, with revolvers out, barrels to the sky, a toothpick hanging in between his lips with a steely eyed gaze glaring at the upper-right corner of the billboard. 

The gravel under the tires gave sharp pops as they rolled at a snails pace to the admissions station. A blonde girl, maybe about 16, looks up from an issue of **Seventeen**, and wrestles the sliding glass window open with the strength of a gorilla. She has blonde poofy hair that sticks up behind her ears when she peeks her head out, a bored look about her face when she addresses Arthur. 

"Two tickets please."

She ducks back inside, moves her magazine out of the way and rings them up on the old cash register. The keys stick down as she presses them with a polished green nail. 

"7.10 please." She drawls, popping a bubble from her gum. Arthur counts out the bills, digs in his cup holder for change. She holds her hand out as Arthur passes over the dollar bills. 

Kieran realizes with an embarrassed blush which makes his ears hot that he wouldn't have been able to afford even one ticket. 

She slips them inside, the coins clattering in the coin slot, and she counts out 10 cents, grabs the freshly printed tickets, and sticks her arm out to hand them back to Arthur. It's a short procedure. 

"Your change."

The telltale sounds of the movie reaches them even from the admissions stand before Arthur can even take anything. He's hanging halfway out of the truck to reach their tickets.

They both exchange glances for the briefest of moments, the blonde girl quirking a pierced eyebrow, probably wondering if they were going to take their tickets and change. She doesn't have to wait long however as Arthur snatches the tickets from the poor girls hand. He pops back in and nearly floors the gas pedal, maybe even breaks the speed limit posted on the _highway_ just outside the drive-in.

Kieran sees she shrugs and goes back inside the admissions stand. They hurry through the snacks and whatnot (Arthur nearly speeding through the tiny gate they keep out front). 

It was opening credits when they parked in the very back. It's all flattened grass, no provided stalls, a few sandy patches. It's large spacious, meant to hold large crowds. Back in it's glory days, it did host large crowds, with crowds of tourists, families, friends. It was very popular back in the day. _Back in the day_, though. Now, because of movie theatres popping up, and the promise of technology that will allow one to bring home film, it was lucky if it got even one vehicle drive in there to watch a film. 

The loud truck putted into the back, earning a few glares shot from over the shoulder from other patrons, and Arthur shut it off with a turn of a key ring filled with keychains. All from different states. 

Texas.

Ohio.

Kentucky, just to name a few. 

It surprises Kieran just a tiny bit, soft smile on his face; This mountain of a man, the same man who took on fifteen gun-wielding O'Driscolls at once in a warehouse riddled with them, also collected tiny, breakable thin metal keychains wherever he went.

There's one that's shaped and painted in a block of cheese from Wisconsin. One a blue and white surf board with a giant shark bite taken out of the side from Miami Florida. Another of a horse head from Texas, chestnut coloured with a white stripe down its long face. 

They all jingle relentlessly against each other when Arthur takes them from the ignition, most of them speckling with light from the canvas screen just some metres in front of them. 

The rumbling of the engine ceases into a quiet nothing. A few crickets close to the theatre sound off with their nightly tunes, distant coyotes yipping as the movie underwent a dramatic silence.

Typical of old western movies; a faint crescendo with loud horse clops from the hero cowboy as they ride into the scene, tumbleweeds crawling mere metres in front of them, sun high in the sky with dust flying around from the hot Nevada desert they walked on. It's a moment of tension for the watchers. 

Arthur shifts, reaches down beside his seat, obviously looking for something.

Kieran watches, confused as to what the man was doing. Suddenly there's a loud _crank _that sends Kieran nearly out of his seat. The back of Arthur's truck seat flies backwards with a bit of a grinding noise and it takes Kieran a moment to realize the man was only putting his seat back. 

"Woah, woah easy Kieran!" Arthur says in a tone that suggests he's barely holding back laughter. He's got his hands up, hovering over Kieran's shoulder, as though he were calming a spooked horse, "I'm just putting my seat back. Relax."

It takes a moment for Kieran to speak. 

"_Jesus_!" Kieran breathes, a hand on his pounding chest, "It have to be that loud?" He's sweaty, slightly, though he's sure it's from nerves. Nervous about sitting in the same truck as Arthur Morgan for around two hours. 

"It's an old truck," Arthur chuckles quietly, and he throws a thumb to the backseat, "Should hear the doors in the back when they open."

There's a few other people with them. Most of them in the front with their headlights off, some dotted here and there, munching away at popcorn. Young couples kissing mostly, others just by themselves with popcorn in hand. A few families enjoying the movie, mostly teenaged boys. 

Kieran realizes with a shudder he hasn't been out of the house in so long. At least Arthur is with him, making sure he doesn't do anything stupid or nothing stupid happens to _him_.

Neither Kieran nor Arthur talk much throughout the movie. There's gun fighting, horseback riding, swearing, drinking, typical of a Clint Eastwood movie. Arthur lets it slip that this is the first one he's ever seen: "Ain't seen a Clint Eastwood movie before."

It's flabbergasting to think that this tough man, who dressed, spoke, and acted like a cowboy, has never seen a Clint Eastwood movie, the god of westerns. Kieran knows his shock shows on his face as Arthur goes red with embarrassment.

"Ain't had time like you or anyone else. Gotta help manage the ranch."

"_Sure Arthur. _I believe you." Kieran snips sarcastically. He's not entirely sure where this bravery, this surge of courage came from. Maybe because he knows he's safe with Arthur, that Arthur wouldn't invite him out just to ignore him the entire time. His sarcasm is rewarded with a piece of popcorn thrown to the face.

They go back to being quiet, but it doesn't last long however. Halfway through, Arthur asked Kieran in a quiet voice how the horses were doing in the stables. That sparked a short conversation, which Kieran indulged in saying which horse was his favourite. 

"Ace of Spades." Kieran had admitted in a hush whisper, eyes on the large screen. Ace of Spades...a young chestnut mare who loved to preform in front of large crowds. She would toss her head, rear a few times, always wanting to run, wanting to _win. _To_ perform, flourish. _The rest of the Van Der Lindes were wary of her; hotheaded, fast, stubborn, dangerous even. She was never a problem for Kieran. 

Arthur spoke a little bit about a horse named Boadicea, one Kieran has never seen before, though it's short and brief, and they fall silent. The movie blares on in front of them, nearly over, with Clint Eastwood preparing to blow up LaHood's base of operations. A tense scene, had Kieran's heart in his throat the entire time. He was focused more on the movie then anything, though he did see and, sometimes catch, Arthur staring at him with starry eyes. 

Odd emotions, sometimes a smile would grace his lips, though Arthur would snap his gaze back to the movie if Kieran went to meet his gaze. He would pretend he'd been watching the entire time.

"Got somethin on my face?" Kieran asks quietly after catching Arthur for the third time. Arthur whips his head back to the screen, pretends he wasn't staring, then sighs.

"Nothin. Nothin at all." Arthur mumbles back, though the faintest light from the screen of the movie catches the red of a blush across his cheeks. Kieran tilts his head, trying to read the emotions that flash across Arthur's face.

_Confusion._

_A touch of frustration. _

_Fondness._

Though Kieran doesn't know why.

"Then you won't mind me askin why you're starin at me?"

Arthur doesn't answer right away, doesn't answer as quickly as Kieran would like. It unnerves him, makes him so uneasy that he jumps at the sharp explosion which resounds from the screen. Whooping and hollering comes from both the movie and from patrons as Clint Eastwood's character initiates a large gunfight.

"Just...I know why you like these movies." Arthur gestures to the screen with a nod. Sharp pops and smoke from guns fill the screen, the wreckage from the dynamite cover the entire scene, "Very entertaining."

His eyes reflect the movie sequence on the glossy lens, somehow makes his greenish blue eyes pop. He looks wholly invested in the screening. 

Kieran smiles softly, leans back against the truck seat, reaches for the popcorn resting on the middle console. When he reaches, his hand brushes up against Arthur's for a brief moment. Kieran doesn't know if Arthur wanted popcorn, or it was totally on purpose. Though, he doesn't know why it would be the latter.

Either way, they both react like they touched fire, Kieran snapping his arm back, tucking his hand to the side as though he'd been burnt. Arthur does the same, except he only briefly glances at Kieran. He clears his throat, not minding that it's dark enough out so Arthur cannot see his blush. 

"S-sorry." Kieran mumbles, and scoots a little further away, presses himself into the door, "Thank you, by the way." 

Arthur looks to him, shocked, only for a moment. Then he smiles lopsidedly, regards Kieran with an almost fond look, and clears his throat, scratches his chin.

"You're welcome. Breaks up the day fer me anyway. Like I said, consider this a thank you for saving my life."

They go back to watching the movie, all the while Arthur pops pieces of popcorn into his mouth. Doesn't chew loudly. Out of the corner of Kieran's eye, Arthur again looks his way. Briefly this time, doesn't linger, doesn't do anything as he goes again for the emptying plastic bowl of popcorn. 

And in all honesty, Kieran thinks it's the way he's dressed. Not very fancy, though Kieran didn't think he'd need flaunt his fanciest clothes in a rundown drive-in theater smackdab in the middle of the countryside. A black long sleeve with blue jeans, couple with cowboy boots stained with mud wasn't exactly presentable. 

But those eyes are not combing over his atrocious attire. They were watching his face, more importantly, his lips, before going back to watching the movie. Arthur's not very subtle at whatever he's doing. Kieran wets his lips, subconsciously, thinking something might after all be on his face and Arthur just wanted to be polite and not say anything. It has his heart pounding much faster than it did with the climax of the movie. 

Makes him feel nervous.

"You alright Arthur? Yer starin again." Kieran dares to speak. This time he's the first to look over to the older man. 

"I'm fine. Nothin's the matter." Arthur answers. 

_Oh somethings the matter._

"You just seem...off."

_Off_ is an understatement. 

Arthur looks to him again, licks his lips, eyes flicking to Kieran's own for a moment. A yearning look floods his eyes, but he does not move.

Oh god.

_Does he want..?_

It has Kieran's brain short wiring, like something isn't connecting properly to digest the information, to process it correctly to even think that's what Arthur's wants to do. 

And by unknown sheer force, maybe of will, or maybe of yearning, Kieran starts to lean in, and miraculously, Arthur does too. It's all going so fast, its a blur to him, that this is really happening, that Arthur actually feels the same way as him. He's never shown before, shown any interest, but now that Kieran looks back, if Arthur didn't like him, he wouldn't go out of his way to spend time.

The sound of gunfire and horse whinnies in the background fade ever so slowly out into nothing as their lips connect. It's gentle, very gentle, like both are scared the other is going to pull away and laugh at the other, or leave in disgust at such an act. It doesn't happen.

Neither pull back. 

And that makes them braver than before. 

It's intoxicating, though Kieran thinks it's his own body making him feel weak in the knees, woozy in the head, dizzy in the brain. 

A hand is placed on Kieran's shoulder, an action, a movement that makes Kieran jump a little. Unexpected, doesn't even really feel another hand cupping his side, touching his ribs faintly. Kieran accidently knocks Arthur's hat off his head as he fists that honey coloured hair. He's pulled from his seat, closer to Arthur, so close their chests are flush against each other, so close they literally couldn't get any closer. 

They only pull back when the burn in their lungs is evident. 

"That was..." Kieran gasps for air, manages to spit out those two words. He clutches his chest, then feels his face, touches his lips with a sense of awe and excitement. Those two emotions mix and make him feel high. Weightless. 

"The movie's done." Arthur pants for air, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. However, he does not sound disappointed. They sit there, dazed, trying to figure out what actually happened, what _just _happened. 

Suddenly, Arthur throws his seatbelt on. 

"Wanna go back and watch Outlaw Josey Wales?" Arthur asks with a twinkle in his eye, one that has Kieran worried for only a brief second. It's soon replaced with a wild, unbridled excitement. 

"Hell yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so painfully Canadian it hurts.
> 
> If yall like this AU I could make more fics based on it


End file.
